


Threads

by betweenthepages



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bonding over Family Legacies, Gen, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenthepages/pseuds/betweenthepages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trip finds her cross-legged on the floor of the cockpit, sewing the pockets and cuffs of Koenig’s suits closed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threads

Trip finds her cross-legged on the floor of the cockpit, sewing the pockets and cuffs of Koenig’s suits closed.

“Agent May, I just wanted to check in that it was okay to leave base tomorrow —“ He stops short when he takes in the scene, thread unraveled on the floor, needles stuck in her sleeves, her brow furrowed in concentration. 

“They’re Coulson’s,” she offers innocently, before he can ask. “And yes, now that your lanyard is sorted you can leave.” 

He kneels down beside her. “You’re helping Coulson fix his suits, huh?” 

“Standard issue SHIELD suits we found in storage. Needed some tailoring,” she says, straight-faced.

“Yeah, standard issue SHIELD suits are European cut, not British cut. These are Koenig’s. What, you think Coulson’s the only one who knows his suits?” He’s smiling now, and reaches across her to pick up a jacket. “So, pockets or cuffs, or both? And what stitch are we using?” 

The surprise on her face passes quickly, and she presses a needle and thread into his hands. “Both. And whatever sews them shut.” He falls silent, sensing that this might be some kind of test, and suspects that he’s passed when ten minutes later May continues. “My mother insisted I know how to sew. Doesn’t mean I learnt to do it well.”

He leans over and gives one of the pockets she’s sewn up a good tug. Compared to his tiny, precise stitches the sewing is messy, but it’ll be enough to frustrate Koenig, and he guesses that that’s all she’s aiming for. “It’ll hold.” 

“So how did you learn how to sew, Agent Triplett?” Her question is casual but he senses the carefully measured distance in her words, and reminds himself that it is not about him, per se.

“My cousin and I did this to my grandfather’s uniform once. He was furious, but my grandmother insisted that if we were going to do it then we at least do it well. Made us plan out a whole op, made a game out of it. Set traps on the way to his room, timed us, the works. Mom says she was grooming us for SHIELD right from the start.” He looks up from his sewing to find May looking at him intently, something like worry and grief dancing across her face.

“Sharon. Did she make it out?” 

“According to mom she’s finding her place at the CIA. She thinks I should join her.” Some of the tension in May’s face eases, and he presses on gently. “I didn’t realise you knew Sharon.” 

“I was her SO, briefly, before.” She doesn’t volunteer what before, and he recalls Sharon switching SOs early and suddenly in her career, her old SO having withdrawn from the field amidst swirling rumours. He’s ready to let the topic slide when she speaks. “Your grandmother. She means a lot to me. I owe her.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s almost better she doesn’t know that this is happening. She’d die if she knew Sharon jumped ship to the CIA.” He smiles, meaning to gloss past it, but May sets the jacket aside and, in the clumsiest gesture he’s ever seen from her, reaches out and pats his knee.

“We’re going to rebuild SHIELD, Trip. Her legacy — it’s going to live on.” She withdraws her hand almost shyly, but there’s no doubting the conviction in her words.

“And here I thought Coulson was the idealistic one,” he teases tentatively, and is rewarded with a smirk. 

“Besides,” she adds, “my mother would never let me live it down if the agency I chose over hers wound up being permanently labeled a terrorist organisation.” 

“I take it she didn’t take it too well when you joined SHIELD?” 

She takes a deep breath, then answers. “No. I thought about staying with her, but —“ 

“You couldn’t head straight into the only life you’d ever known. I get it.” She looks at him with surprise, and he feels a tentative sort of understanding fall into place.

She clears her throat, then gathers up the suits. “I’m going to put these back.” She pushes up off the floor and offers him a hand. “You coming?” 

He glances down at his tablet, checking everyone’s locations, then back up at her. “ The coast is clear. Think Koenig’ll have our lanyards for this?” 

She raises an eyebrow. “Not from the grandson of a Howling Commando, no.” 

“That’s rich, coming from Director May’s daughter,” he shoots straight back, a playful, mock-wounded expression spreading across his face.

“It’s former Director May,” she corrects, “and we were sparring in the gym all evening.”

He laughs, and by the time he opens the cockpit door and gestures her through, he swears Melinda May was actually smiling.


End file.
